


Liquid Lust

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: AKA, I wrote this a very long time ago and have made no attempt to edit it, M/M, you can't polish a turd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chester smells like his personality - addictive and unexplainable</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liquid Lust

“Hey, Brad.” Mike’s so fucking chipper. “How’re you?”

Smirk, half smile, flexing the facial muscles and narrowing the eyes. “I’m so bubbly and sociable these days. It makes me feel all...warm and fuzzy inside.”

He rolls his eyes as I sit down opposite him in the booth, “They say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.” Smart ass.

“Fuck you.” I mutter, smile broadly. “Was that lower?”

Mike shakes his head in something that might be disgust. Might be. But I’ve never seen Mike be disgusted with anyone or anything. Save for Chester, but everyone is disgusted with Chester most of the time. He’s used to it though, brushes it off and continues to flirt shamelessly with everyone in sight, ignores Mike’s scorching gaze. I think he’s jealous. Of what, I have no idea. Chester is too broken to be envied.

Not too broken to be wanted. Because fuck do I want him.

He’s sauntering over, hips swaying half circles to piss Mike off. He wets his lips and murmurs, “Hi, Brad.”

That want? It’s still there. Stronger than ever, polluting the air like Chester’s expensive and lingering cologne. Chester smells like his personality – addictive and unexplainable. I smile, breathe out “Hey, Chaz.” He sits down next to me at the table, picks up the menu and glances over it for a second, before throwing it down and staring at the ceiling. I smile at him, “Nothing you like?”

He sighs, “Everything is fucking shit.” You wouldn’t think Chester had such a way with words from the way he speaks. He raises his hand and gestures for the waitress. Mike raises his eyes from his breakfast to snort at Chester before he continues eating. Chester flips him off, raising his hand for the waitress again. She has a skirt that’s too short and a smile that’s too big. Chester says, “Is there anything edible on your menu?”

Her big smile is now firmly wiped from her overly-powdered face and replaced with an offended and somewhat confused expression. “Excuse me?” She asks, clicking her teeth and glaring with ice-blue eyes.

“I said ‘I’ll have a coffee.’” Chester lies openly with a blank face. The waitress frowns and sighs, tottering away on heels too high that click on the tiles like a metronome. Chester rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat. “Fucking Kansas.”

He’s bitter because we didn’t stay in a hotel. He’s bitter. Period. Marriage can do that to a person. Being ‘stuck in a ditchita in Wichita’ had us all going stir crazy. The least they could’ve done was found a hotel or something...but no, we slept on the bus again in the parking lot of this seedy little diner and bar. It smells of disinfectant and meat and Chester’s fucking cologne that I’m going to find out the name of and buy...because I don’t think I’ll last without being able to smell that every day. It’s liquid lust that he sprays himself with every morning.

I’m sure of it.

“I walked across the parking lot this morning and – thanks,” Chester pauses, stares at the coffee that’s just been set down in front of him, “Why the fuck is it grey?”

I mutter “I don’t care.”

“Hmm. Anyway I was walking across the parking lot and there was this chick staring at me like I was a God or some shit.”

This happens all the time. Chester can’t get over being looked up to when he’s been frowned down upon for so long. Mike scoffs, doesn’t protest when I steal the last rasher of bacon from his plate.

“Sometimes I just want to say ‘I’m not your role model’.” Chester continues, his dark eyes shine with something…it could just be that he’s so passionate about what he’s saying. Chester puts his heart and soul into everything.

“This is good bacon.” I tell nobody in particular. Mike nods and ‘hmm’s in that I’m-agreeing-but-don’t-know-what-to-say-to-you way of his.

Chester has lit a cigarette and is wafting the smoke around as he makes exaggerated hand gestures, it’s so fucking strong I think my nose is going to bleed. He sighs, “I want to say ‘I’m a star, not a God.’”

I pour myself a cup of the coffee Chester just ordered. It looks like rain water, but it’s too early to care. Out the corner of my eye I can see him take a drag of his cigarette and blow recycled smoke through his nose. It’s a wonder he can still smell anything at all. I want to tell him that he’s not even a star yet, but he already knows that.

Mike is looking around the run down old diner with disinterest, says “And stars burn out, right Chester?”

Chester looks a little stunned, shifts in his seat, “Yes. That’s right.”

The coffee tastes like the rainwater it resembles and I think that sometimes things are just as straight forward as they seem.


End file.
